


video star in reality

by jackgyeoms



Category: Fast and the Furious Series, The Fast and the Furious (2001)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Porn, Anal Sex, Fluff, M/M, Pornstar!Brian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-26
Updated: 2015-10-26
Packaged: 2018-04-28 07:55:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5084011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jackgyeoms/pseuds/jackgyeoms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>au where brian is a pornstar, and dom has watched way too many of his videos</p>
            </blockquote>





	video star in reality

**Author's Note:**

> based off [this](http://werewolfzero.tumblr.com/post/87762982928/imagine-derek-out-to-lunch-with-laura-when-stiles) amazing prompt
> 
> unbeta'd so all mistakes are my own

 

Usually, Dom prefers to eat in than out. He likes the process of preparing a meal, standing over a barbeque or a stove, the steam warming his cheeks, the smoke hitting his face. He enjoys going through his mama’s recipe books, all carefully handwritten and bound with ribbons. It has gotten stained over the years, when Mia and he were younger and careless, but each one is just another memory. Family dinners are something he insists upon, a feeling of normality and of ‘before’, and it’s a sign of acceptance into his circle when you’re sat among them. He continues the tradition his father started years before, leaves his door open on Sunday afternoons for the community to come and go as they please, and while he doesn’t hold onto the church rule his father had started, he insists on the bowing of heads and the saying of grace. And like his father, it is done without question.

If he has to leave his kingdom and into another, there is only a handful of acceptable places. Gio’s is one of them. It’s an old family run restaurant, opened in the 1920s by the first generation trying to make a new life. Ray, the current owner, had been a poker buddy of his father’s, and if there was something to celebrate, a treat to be had or (more frequently) when amends had to be made to mama, they were brought here. The communal tables are from the grand opening, antiques now that have seen better days, but it seems Ray isn’t up for giving them up, like Dom can’t seem to let go of the Charger in their garage.

So you sit with strangers. When Dom was a child, he would be fascinated by the people and the stories they brought with them. Dinners would go cold as a smiley face wove a tale beyond Echo Park. He’d never leave himself, never find out whether there was truth to anything he was told, but he likes pretending there is. As an adult, he has lost that need to constantly enquire, understands that sometimes the past should stay in the past or that words can be hard to speak, but the familiarity of it brings comfort. When Mia insists on the two of them celebrating the success of the track, a long time coming, a struggle and a relief, it only seems fit that they will come here.

They are sat on one end of the table. Coronas with lime, and glasses of water, are placed before them without either of the Toretto siblings needing to ask. Ray comes out from the doors of the kitchen to congratulate them, squeezing Dom’s shoulder and kissing Mia’s cheek and telling them, voice thick, that their father would be proud. Dom doesn’t say what he wants to say – _I hope so_ – and remains silent, allowing Mia to do the talking, when they raise their glasses in toast of their father’s dream coming to fruition.

Ray leaves, and Mia distracts him with talk. Mostly about her time at school, her nursing degree – that both know Mia wishes is a doctorate, but money is still tight and they don’t know how long this will last, maybe not long enough for that kind of commitment. She talks about incidents in the corridors, and friends that Dom can only remember from odd descriptions. Marian, she’s the one with the engine troubles. Arin, he has a scar behind his ear. Harvey, she smells of spices he always means to ask about for the next meal. The light atmosphere keeps him calm, and the lime sweetens his tongue.

He’s aware when someone is sat next to him. Hears the footfalls that stop at his side, and the squeak of the chairs legs dragging across the ancient floorboards. Hayley, their waitress’ sweet voice, and a slightly deeper one that professes gratitude. Hayley promises Mia that she’ll be back to take their orders in a moment, as the edge of a jacket brushes down the length of his arm when it’s been strung over the back of the chair. Dom glances, briefly, thinking that he would just take in their company, offer a smile and be done, but the man beside him has Dom choking on the drink that suddenly becomes unbearable on his tongue.

At first, he thinks he must be imagining things. That it can’t be – this man just looked similar is all, it was said that everyone had a twin in the world. It’s possible, but he cannot bring himself to be convinced by it. Maybe it is because, of all people, Dom is sure he would be able to tell the difference. He’d spent more than enough time watching Earl Spliner’s face – watching the ticks in his cheeks when he smiles, or the way his eyes flutter before they are blown wide with pleasure. And the smile the man offers him, no one else has managed one so blinding, and Dom thinks back to the last time he had seen that smile.

Edges trembling, skin flushed, pupils blown and highlighted with something too blue. Someone had said something off camera, and Earl had thrown his head back in laughter, genuine and pure, despite the cum that splattered his cheeks.

Heat travels from the nap of Dom’s neck, along the line of his shoulders and curls into his stomach. He hopes it isn’t noticeable, swallows around his tongue in a desperate attempt to get moisture into his mouth. The smile falters at the edges, and Dom doesn’t like that quite as much.

Mia’s the one to kick him under the table, to turn and smile wide at the blond and apologise for her brother. “He isn’t usually so rude,” she assures, and even though she glances at him warningly, he stares at a spot on place mat determined to regain some of his composer.

He does in the end, raises his head, doesn’t quite manage to meet his gaze when he gives his own sorry and introduces himself.

The man, for his part, seems to be the type to just let things roll off his back. He smiles again, brushes off the apology with, “it’s cool man. Not a bad affect to have on someone,” he jokes, flirts maybe, and winks at Mia. Has her giggling because of course he does. His and Mia’s type had always been too much alike at times.

And then he turns back to Dom, holds out his hand and says, “Brian.”

That has Dom’s eyebrows raising, and before he can stop it, he blurts, “Really?”

Mia’s hissing at him again, his name low and warning, but he is too busy watching Brian’s face to take notice. The blond looks confused for a moment, caught off guard, and then the realisation sets in. His cheeks tint pink and his lips part to let out a surprised breathe. But his eyes sharpen, bore into him now with knowing. Dom tries not to react visibly, doesn’t want to back down, doesn’t want to give the game away, but he can’t hide that knowledge anymore. Brian doesn’t say anything, thank god – Mia knows about Dom’s sexual preferences, she was one of the first people he had told, laying in the space beside her in her bed and whispered into the still darkness that had overtaken the room, but there was a distinct difference between knowing and _knowing_. His limited porn preferences were not something that he wanted to share.

“Yeah, Brian,” he says slowly, hand still hovering in place, and it takes a second for Dom to reach for it. Fingers wrap around fingers and squeeze.

“Suits you,” Dom admits. _Better than Earl,_ he doesn’t say.

There’s an uptick in Brian’s lips. “I do prefer it.”

They’re interrupted by Hayley, sliding up to them, a little out of breath and still profusely apologising for keeping them waiting for so long. It’s busy on the weekends, and she always seems to run herself ragged trying to keep on top of everything. It’s easy to calm her with a smile and soft words, Mia taking the time to tell her that they were getting acquainted. The hold on each other hands linger for a moment, the locking of eyes answering questions and professing awareness, and when limbs finally lowered to their laps, Dom had to clench his fist to warm against the chill that suddenly took over.

He orders what he usually does. Chorizo and Chicken Paella. Mia ponders before going with, Ham and Mushroom Tagliatelle, a childhood favourite. Hayley adds another two drinks to the order, saying that Ray insists that all drinks are on the house. Dom knows that they’d add what was needed to the bill, and just murmurs words of gratitude.

Brian has turned to his menu, only looks up when Dom glances to him again. “So,” he starts conversationally, “what do you two recommend?”

“Everything,” Dom responds with a huff of laughter.

Mia leans forward and continues, as if this is a secret confession, “Our parents knew the family. There isn’t anything here that’s not worth eating.”

“High praise,” Brain mutters.

“Ray deserves only the highest,” Mia assures. She goes on, of course, points out her favourites and Dom’s, Vince’s even, and Dom can’t help up watch the intense way that Brian listens. He hums and nods, as if this is the most serious decision he’s ever been faced with.

It’s strange, Dom thinks, because Brian isn’t anything like he expected him to be. He’d found Earl Spliner on a quiet night when his body hummed and kept him awake. He’d been been flipping from video to video, nothing catching his interest for more than a few seconds. Nothing was what he had _needed_. He couldn’t verbalise it, didn’t think he would have found it until midway through the video, Earl had laughed at something that was said of camera. His smile had lit up his whole face, his whole body had shaken with mirth. The other guy, he’d moaned and muttered a curse and Earl had stumbled over apologises as he tried to keep it together. Dom hadn’t been sure why they had kept that in, seemed so out of place among the grunts, but he was glad for it.  The realness of it had burnt when it settled in the pit of his stomach. The laughter became moans, begs, and Dom had cum embarrassingly fast across himself.

Three days later, he had found a name and went about going through Earl Spliner’s collection.

And now, faced with the real, with the very thing that had drawn him to Earl – to Brian – in the first place, Dom doesn’t know what to do with himself.

Mia looks at him through her fringe and her eyes crease at the bottom when she smiles. He was staring, Dom realises, had been for a while. Although it is much too late for playing it cool, Dom resents the loss of illusion. He takes a long drag of his drink, averts his gaze to the ceiling for a moment.

“So Brian, what do you do?” Mia wonders, making Dom choke on his drink. Corona spills onto his chin, and he wipes it with the sleeve of his shirt. He pointedly ignores Mia’s gaze.

Brian doesn’t seem phased, doesn’t miss a beat when he says, “Most of the time, I work at a garage. But I have a friend who asked me to join her pit crew so,” he gives a small shrug.

Mia’s eyes spark, and Dom sits up a little straighter. “You know cars?”

One eyebrow rose slowly. “Well enough,” he answers vaguely.

“So do we,” Dom replies, and latches on, “well enough.”

“Who’s your friend?” Mia questions, “Maybe we know her.”

“Suki Hamasaki, she got a deal with on the Toretto track,” Brian says.

Dom huffs a laugh, disbelieving. Suki had been Letty’s find. They’d been trying to build up their numbers, needed regulars, names that would draw crowds. Suki was big in Miami, near on unbeatable. Dom hadn’t seen Letty so determined about something in a long time. He’d gone down, saw Suki race and once was all he needed to make a decision. She was to be their fifth and final permeant. It had been her contract that had pulled them from the dirt.

“Small world,” Dom explains at Brian’s confused expression.

Mia adds, “Really small.”

They explain, and Brian laughs that one that has his face brightening, his neck arching. Dom is inappropriately distracted by it, and this time, when Mia kicks him under the table, he’s immensely pleased by the save.

“I guess we’ll be seeing a lot more of each other,” Brian teases.

“I guess so,” Dom mutters his reply, lets himself smile, however goofy it may feel.

 

~

 

Dom survives the rest of the meal. It’s managed through talk of cars, of Suki and of race tracks. Brian’s an import guy because of course he is. Mia rolls her eyes when Dom refuses to back down on his stance on American muscle, but seems pleased by the turn of events.

Dom wonders when his sister decided that settling him up with Brian was a good idea, and he’s not sure whether he’s thankful for it.

She claims she needs to pick something up from her friend’s college dorm – “it’s urgent Dom, I can’t just leave it until tomorrow” – and is far too persistent in getting him to accept the drive home from Brian when it’s offered. It’s not something he’s too inclined to turn down – how you drive shows who you truly are, that’s what Dom’s father had always insisted, and Dom really wanted to know who Brian was – but he still made Mia promise to text him when she was on her way home. She promises, and Dom choses to ignore the exasperation in her voice, just as he ignores the wink she throws him as she leaves.

Brian is lent against a Skyline when he turns, his eyes captivating in a way that Dom is weak too. He smirks and says, “You ready for me to prove the superiority of my baby?”

Dom laughs, and accepts the challenge. He knows full well that nothing will change his mind about the Charger, about Mustangs’ and Cameros’, but he’s willing to let Brian try.

And does he try.

The skyline doesn’t rumble like the Charger does, harsh and strong, but it hums, a smooth and sleek yet ever present feeling under your seat that reminds you what it can do. Brian drives without control, but with no small amount of skill. He’s seen drivers crash from in the split seconds it takes for Brian to turn corners, and Dom finds himself giving directions too close to the turns just to see the way it’s handled. He is not disappointed. They don’t talk on the journey, let themselves get wrapped up in the driving and in the journey. But the Toretto home in Echo Park has to be reached eventually, and when Brian turns the engine off, there is nothing to fill the silence.

And yet, neither of them move. Brian breaths out a little as he leans back into his chair, hands falling from the steering wheel and into his lap. Dom adjusts his feet, lets his legs stretch out a little more. They stare out the front window at the closed garage door.

“Did I convince you?” Brian questions.

“You gave a good try,” he admits, tilts his head to the side to meet Brian’s gaze, “but not quite.”

Brian makes a show of hissing, of promising that next time, he’d get there. Dom tells him that next time, it’s the Charger’s turn.

“Bringing out the big guns huh?” Brian teases, and Dom replies with, “You got to start with the best, and that car hasn’t ever seen a set of tail lights.”

“We’ll see about that,” another challenge, and Dom is starting to understand that everything might be like that with this guy.

More silence. More words that sit on the tip of Dom’s tongue, that teeter on the edge of being blurted confessions. He rubs them against the back of his teeth and it keeps them at bay. Not that it’s entirely necessary. Brian doesn’t seem to have the same constraints.

“You recognised me,” He comments, voice careful.

Dom hums, attempts to seem nonchalant. “That going to be a problem?”

“No.” He seems honest in his reply, “I just wasn’t expecting…”

“Me?” Dom supplies, when Brian wavers and doesn’t immediately continue. The blond looks a little sheepish, and shrugs a little. His teeth are worrying his bottom lip, has the flesh going from pink to red and Dom wants to lick there, to know what it tastes like. He swallows and says, “Is it a bad thing?”

“Definitely not,” Brian breathes, like a promise.

Dom’s hands flex on his thighs. He considers, only for a brief time, because regardless of the consequences, he knows what he wants to ask. “You wanna come in?” He angles his head towards the house.

“God yes.”

 

~

 

Brian backs him into his bedroom wall when they kiss. Dom stumbles, but catches on quickly, hands coming up to rest on Brian’s waist, to ruck up the shirt so he can get to the skin beneath. He grunts a little on impact, but doesn’t let the kiss break. Doesn’t let it stop. Brian is eager, hands gripped tightly on the collar of Dom’s shirt. His lips part to let out shaky breath, and his tongue flicks across Dom’s bottom lip and beyond. It makes Dom’s grip tighten, strength pressing against the pale skin at the small of his back, and Brian’s breathe hitches.

Dom orders, “Bed”, and Brian moves his feet in time with Dom’s. His calves hit the end of the bed, and Dom uses the position of his hands to pull the shirt over Brian’s head. Brian tugs, wants the same, and Dom all too happy to oblige. They land in a heap somewhere in the corner of the room, not that Dom notices, not when Brian is watching him with blown eyes, hands trailing down his chest, between his pecs, to the trail of hair that leads south.

“Fuck,” Brian curses, shakes his head, and sets about getting Dom’s jeans to fall from his hips. His fingers fumble a little, couldn’t quite get the grip it is determined to have. Dom stays quiet about it, doesn’t attempt to help, strokes at Brian’s back, and traces nonsensical patterns as he waits. Brian lets out a triumphant noise when they finally slip, catching on his hips for a moment and needing a swift tug to get them to his ankles.

It’s a little awkward, kicking off his shoes with his pants down there, but he manages, and Brian is watching him with barely smothered chuckles that become moaned gasps when Dom presses their lips together once more. He makes swifter work of Brian’s, hands slipping below the fabric to grab at Brian’s arse, draws them closer so that he could rub against his front.

Brian hums. Hands slide across Dom’s shoulders. He presses their lips together again, the kisses open mouth and wet. It leaves the taste of Brian, of his beer and his food, on Dom’s lips and he chases after it.

“Wanna fuck you,” Brian confesses with more reverence.

Dom shudders, finds himself nodding jerkily and his hands flexing their grip on cheeks. “Yeah, yeah, okay, yeah.”

Falling to the bed is easy. It whines under their combined weight, but doesn’t give, allows the two men to shift and push against each other. Brian’s hands get under Dom’s boxers, fling them away. Those eyes, blue lost in darkness that Dom no doubt mirrors in his own, watch him when he slides between splayed thighs. His hands are surprisingly gentle, like Dom is something that could break beneath him, when he holds onto Dom’s ankle and raises the leg to his shoulder. Dom holds his breath for a moment, and it escapes in an uneven gasp when Brian looks down and groans at the sight. He drops a kiss to Dom’s leg as if in thank you.

He rears up, presses closer so that he can have their lips meet once more. He takes kisses, firm and barely restrained, one hand reaching up to cup Dom’s cheek. His own hands go to Brian’s hair, enjoys the feeling of the blond strands that curl around his fingers. His bare cock rubs against the rough denim of Brian’s jeans and he wishes that he’d taken the time to strip Brian from the properly, although he can’t deny the pleasure of the fiction. He rocks up into it, groans into the wet slide of their lips, and pre-cum dribbles lines on his stomach.

Brian murmurs something about lube, voice uneven, and Dom reluctantly releases one hand to reach blindly towards his side table. He knows it’s there somewhere, had shoved it in their a few days ago, although he worries for a second. He doesn’t want to have to put a stop to this, so when his fingers finally touch the edge of the bottle, he lets out a grunt of triumph. It’s shoved into Brian’s hands roughly, insistently, and Brian seemed only too happy to oblige.

He makes a mess, squeezes too hard and his hands can’t catch it all. He doesn’t seem to care too much though, rubs the pads of his fingers together in an attempt to warm up the jelly.

“You sure you make a living out of this?” Dom murmurs, cannot resist the teasing.

Brian snorts a laugh, “This is a little different than being in front of a camera.” His hand lowers, presses wetly against his hole and Dom shivers at the feeling. Brian leans forward to kiss him again, even when the pressure built and Dom’s lips fell slack and useless. One finger, and Dom moaned. Brian bit at Dom’s lips, sucked on them like he could catch it for himself.

He says, “In front of the camera, it doesn’t matter as long as you pretend, but here, it matters whether it’s good. I want it to be good for you.”

Another finger joins the first, twists and spread, and Dom feels his thigh twitch against Brian’s shoulder. “Good. So good,” he promises.

“Yeah?” Brian sounds breathless and rough.

Three fingers. Dom groans his reply, fingers digging crescents into pale shoulders. They’ll leave marks, both of them know that, and Dom doesn’t seem to care. He likes it, in fact, and presses a little harder. Likes the way that Brian moaned at the feeling. He wishes he could get closer, mark the skin with teeth and lips. Maybe they’d stay for a few days, a few weeks. Forever.

He arches his back, rocks down, wants more than he’s being given and too proud to beg for it. Not that Brian asks him too. He makes a strangled noise, curls his fingers inside until it they touch what makes Dom enter body jerk as if it had been scorched.

“Ready? You ready?” Brian sounds desperate, frayed at the edges, and Dom nods sharply. He doesn’t let Brian pull his fingers away, clenches down on them, and encourages Brian closer with persistent hands. He steals a kiss, and another, as his hands take to mapping a path down Brian’s chest to his loosened trousers. He shoves them down as far as he can, pushes at his boxers until his cock is freed from the confines. Brian hisses against his mouth when the elastic pings back at the sensitive space between cock and balls. Dom makes a noise, rubs it better with his fingertips and kisses apologises.

Brian shudders. “Now?”

Dom enjoys a rush of power, likes to be in the driving seat, but there was something about giving someone else the _permission_ to drive, about giving _Brian_ that permission that is a thousand times more like a head trip. Brian follows his instructions like he’s made for nothing else, and Dom thinks back to the man he had seen on his computer screen more times than he can count. This is better, he decides, and is greedy when he takes in the flush high on Brian’s cheeks, or the desire in his eyes. Better, because it’s for him. He has always been a possessive man.

He reaches for condoms, kept in the same open draw as the lube, and is more than happy to help Brian slip it on. Takes his time on the withdraw, let’s his hands linger, cup and hold. Brian’s hips jerk involuntarily into him and he makes a noise of complaint that isn’t really a complaint. It’s enough to make Dom take pity though. He raises his hips, brings one leg to Brian’s shoulder, and enjoys the feel of fingers pressing into his calf muscle when Brian clings to it. It takes a few attempts, a few blunt pushes of head against his hole before there’s success and Brian is angling his hips to get deeper, and Dom can’t breathe.

The bed squeaks in time with Brian’s thrusts. Dom whines in the back of his throat with it every time his hips roll. He draws Brian up by a tight hand on the back of his neck, crushes their lips together. Noises are muffled between them. Shuddered breathing has the slide of lips clumsy. They draw away for breath, and Dom takes the chance to mark as he sees fit. He presses open mouthed kisses to the line of Brian’s jaw, scraps his teeth and sucks until Brian gasps. His hips move erratically, and Dom groans.

“More,” he orders. Brian blinks down at him, and nods. His hands tighten their grip on Dom’s leg, pushes it up until the burn and new stretch have Dom hissing. “Fuck,” he curses to the ceiling. Tries to get some leverage to rock down.

It all ends embarrassingly fast in Dom’s opinion. Watching Brian delirious above him, with each roll of hips making the heat in the pit of his stomach more unbearable. Dom touches himself, clutches desperately and the familiar warmth brings goosebumps to his flesh. He pants, close but not close enough.

Brian pulls back to watch him. Angles his hips so he can watch himself disappearing into Dom’s body, so he can watch strong hands stroke unsteadily up and down his cock. He groans, his hips jerking a little too hard and making Dom have to tighten his grip, just to stop it from ending.

“Come on, come on. I wanna – wanna watch you,” Brian slurs, voice rough, “You look good, so good like this.”

“Enough of the sweet talk,” Dom grumbles, the breathlessness taking any heat the words might have held.

Brian swears, “Never,” and the torrent of promises that fall are enough for the tips of Dom’s ears to pink.

“Hold you too that,” he murmurs, his touch spending up, fucks himself on Brian’s dick until his thighs strain with the exertion.

When he cums, it’s all over himself. He yells into the heaviness of the room, his back arching, body taunt and then trembling as he comes down from a high. His muscles feel out of his control, and his vision blurs at the edges, but still he watches Brian’s face. He’s unsteady, but he fucks Dom through it, shakes from the strain of restraining. And then his face screws up, like it always did on the videos, nose wrinkled and mouth agape. He braces himself, thrusts in deep and his scream is soundless.

Strength leaves him, and Brian doesn’t seem to care that he drops into Dom’s own mess. His breathe is hot against Dom’s collarbone, and out of sync with his own. Dom stares at the ceiling, but his hand comes to press into Brian’s sweat dampened curls, combs the locks away from his face.

“I…didn’t expect this to happen today,” Dom confesses.

Brian shifts, a little away, and Dom tightens his grip. He’s not ready for the cold that seeps between them. “Not everyone expects to fuck a pornstar,” he says it lightly, but something in it makes Dom frown.

“Not what I meant,” he says.

A long sigh. “It’s okay Dom, really. It happens.” More lightness that is forced.

Dom rolls them under Brian is pinned beneath him. Encourages eye contact with a hand on Brian’s jaw, strokes the mark he left there. Brian’s expression is guarded, and Dom hates it more than he thought possible. He dips his head until their foreheads touch. “Do you want to stay for breakfast?” he asks.

Brian blinks, allows the surprise to get through before the shutter of eyelids hides it once more. “Breakfast is hours away.”

“I’ve got time,” Dom says, and awaits an answer.

There is a long pause, another sigh that Dom feels in his chest. “I…don’t have anywhere to be,” he responds quietly.

“You do now,” Dom tells him and bows for a kiss.

 

~

 

The car parked in the driveway is a dead giveaway of the obvious. Mia isn’t too surprised, not after she had watched her brother interact with Brian. She isn’t entirely sure whether he’d ever acted like that before, but she found the whole thing amusing. She’d stayed out as long as she could, and crawled home when silence had fallen. She doesn’t wake up to that.

There is clinking of glasses, a low murmur of voices. Brian is barely dressed, a pair of boxers and one of Dom’s muscle shirts that is loose in places. Dom is just in sweatpants, and watches Brian too closely as he pads around the kitchen. Mia doesn’t know how they’re not aware of her presence – the top step on the stairs has been squeaking since she was a toddler, and no one seemed to be in a hurry to change that. Maybe they are pretending, she reasons, when she steps into the kitchen to make herself known and neither seem startled.

“You’re making the guest do the cooking?” Mia says.

Brian grins at her, “I insisted.”

“Not that he can cook for shit,” Dom quips.

“I can cook eggs,” Brian argues.

“You’re eggs are burning,” Mia points out, and smothers a laugh behind her hand when Brian leaps into action, muttering curses and shooting a glare to her grinning brother.

It is sickeningly domestic, and it makes Mia feel a little lighter. It has been a long time since this kitchen has been filled like this, and she knows it’s not the same, knows it probably won’t ever be, but it’s better. Brian insists that she should sit, says there are enough eggs and Mia mutters gratitude. The eggs were good, something that she praises Brian on, if only so she can enjoy the smug look that Brian sends her brother, and the exasperated one that is returned.

Dom does the washing up, maybe because he wants to impress Brian, or maybe because he wants Brian to press up against him like he does. Hands go around his waist in a loose hug, as if just holding him is enough, chin rests on shoulders. Dom doesn’t react to it, remains relaxed and comfortable, and Mia knows her brother well enough to know that’s a better sign than any.

She feigns interest in the coffee machine, gives them some semblance of privacy. Not that it matters, she can hear their whispered words.

“It’s Sunday. We have barbeques on Sundays,” Dom explains lowly, his voice careful to not give away anything.

“You want me to go?” Brian mutters.

Dom makes a disapproving noise. “Nah. I want you to stay.”

There is a long pause, and Mia tries not to shift too much, tries not to break the moment. She glances through her hair though, gets to see the moment that Brian’s hands cup Dom’s face and draw him into a kiss. It lingers.

“Okay, okay,” Brian whispers into it, and doesn’t seem to care when Dom puts wet hands on his waist.

The coffee machine beeps when it’s done, and the moment is passed. Brian steps away, expression sheepish and Dom looks a little hot under the collar. “Coffee?” Mia offers mildly, and adds another cup when Brian agrees.

“The others will be over at 3. Dinners about 4,” Mia informs, smirks when she adds, “I’m sure that my brother has something that can fit you.”

She leaves with coffee hand, and rubs a hand affectionately over her brother’s head as she goes. He gripes but doesn’t try to get away, and is smiling at her. She laughs, winks over her shoulder and says, “Welcome to the family Brian.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> feedback is welcomed and appreciated!
> 
> i have a tumblr [@domtorctto](http://gladers.co.vu/)
> 
> because it has been asked before, i wanted to say that i have fics in the planning, either to be written or are half done - a sequel to [the claw](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4841063), a soulmate au, and another which has been prompted. i'm also hoping to write a dom/brian/letty fic in the near future :)


End file.
